School of Jak
by Kitty Kat-chan
Summary: With the long wait for the next installment of th J&D series, our favorite characters are forced to take up new employment... teaching school. Featuring Shooting lessons with Jak, Chemistry with Jinx, and Cosmetology with Razer! Criticism is wanted.
1. Chappeh One

**Pairings:**** Torn/Jak, Torn/Ashelin, Keira/Jak, Jinx/Jak, Rayn/Jak, Tess/Daxter, Ashelin/Daxter (No, I am not kidding.), Sig/Tess, Erol/Keira, Razer/Jak, Pecker/Daxter (Again, not kidding!), G.T. Blitz/Rayn, Kor/Onin Samos/Onin, Seem/all the Ottsels, Jak/Vin, and somewhat Brutter/Jak… And probably more.**

**Warnings and Such:**** Extreme insanity. This means that there will be a lot of OOCness. And of course, slash pairings. So, if you don't like it, then don't read it!**

**LAST EDITED: July 13, 2007--I must admit, after having gone back over all this, that I'm a little ashamed of how it was. The grammar errors! The useless dialogue and descriptions! Argh! So painful to look at! Hopefully, this version of the chapter is better than the previous one.**

**Disclaimer:**** I own nothing… Except for some of the OC students… and I kinda regret owning them, anyway. **

* * *

**School of Jak **

**Chappeh One **

* * *

**  
Period One: Shooting Lessons with Jak **

"He's late…"

"Where do you think he is?"

"I dunno… On a coffee break, probably…"

The story starts off in Haven City's gun course in the wee hours of the morning. Four kids, about eleven or twelve years old, were sitting together in the corner, blinking sleepily and looking kinda stupid. They were waiting for their teacher to arrive.

"What class is this again?" one of the students, a tall boy with blonde hair and freckles, asked after a moment of silence.

"My schedule said that this was shooting class," another boy, this one with dark curly hair, replied.

"You know, there are absolutely no girls in this class… Where are all the women at?" the third male student, a tall, muscular black boy, whined. He quickly received a sharp smack to the back of his head.

"_I'M _a woman!" snapped the girl who had smacked him. She was a short, skinny, plain little thing with thin, limp brown hair.

"Oh," said the boy sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his head. "Sorry about that. Didn't see ya there…"

The girl sighed. "That's okay… Sorry for hitting you."

"Don't worry about it."

And the four kids fell silent once more.

"…Well this sucks," the blonde boy finally said. The dark haired boy opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment, the teacher ran in, huffing and puffing. He stopped and leaned against the wall, trying to regain his breath.

The kids took in his wild appearance silently; his blonde hair (was that green they saw mixed in?), his unusual clothing, his goggles, and his… green goatee?

"…Sorry I'm late," the teacher, panting heavily, finally said once he had pulled himself together. He straightened up and smoothed his shirt out.

"Welcome to your first day of shooting class," he continued. "My name is Jak, but to you guys, it's Mr. Jak."

He paused to allow this information to sink in. The four idiots blinked up at him stupidly. Once he was sure they understood, he continued.

"Now then… I guess I'd better take the roll…" He began to dig around in his pockets, searching for the mini-electronic-attendance book that Keira had made for him… Actually, she'd made one for everyone, including herself, but we don't care about her. We're focusing on Jak right now.

The kids watched wearily as Jak began to pull random things out of his pockets, including a rubber chicken, a yo-yo, an exploding Praxis doll, a rubber ducky, a Play Elf magazine (he quickly shoved that into his back pocket when he realized what it was), a kangarat, his extra pair of underwear, a wrench, and some extra gun cartridges.

Five minutes later, Jak finally found the electric-attendance-book thing.

"Right," he said, shoving all the crap he had pulled out in his search back into his pockets. "The roll… er… how do you turn these things on…?"

The kids watched silently as he elf began to push random buttons and smack the device with the palm of his hand fruitlessly in an attempt to turn the device on.

"Screw it," Jak finally said, tossing the device over his shoulder. "I'll finish it later—" he stopped, puzzled. "Huh? Where's the rest of the class?"

The four students looked at each other blankly.

"I dunno," the girl finally said with a shrug. "We were the only ones who came in."

"Right," Jak said again. "That's okay, attendance will be easy… What're your names?"

"Mine's Jane," said the girl.

Jak looked startled. "Oh… You're a girl?"

"YES, I'm a girl," growled Jane, her eye twitching.

"Oh," Jak repeated. "I thought you were a guy with long hair… I wonder where all the other girls are…"

Jane growled again. Taking this as a bad sign, Jak quickly turned to the three boys.

"What's your name?" he asked the black boy.

"Eggbert," the boy replied. Everyone stared.

_"…Eggbert?" _Jak repeated.

Eggbert nodded proudly. "Yep. With two g's."

Jane snorted. "Wow. You're parents are cruel." Eggbert looked insulted.

"Hey! I like my name!" he said defensively. "It's a cool name!"

"Riiiiiiiiight…" Jak said slowly. "Next!" he turned to the tall, blonde haired boy. "And your name is…?"

"Gaylord."

Once again, everyone stared. Finally, Jane said, "Eggbert, I take back what I said earlier—_this _guy has cruel parents."

Jak turned to the dark haired boy. "And you are…?"

"(1)Jorge," the boy replied. Jane, Eggbert, and Gaylord all burst out laughing.

"D-did you say your name was _WHORE-HEY?_" cackled Eggbert.

"And I thought _I _had cruel parents!" Gaylord howled. Jorge bristled.

"No! It's Jorge! J-O-R-G-E!" he snapped. This only made the three idiots laugh harder.

Jak shook his head, muttering under his breath abut insane parents giving their children cruel names.

"ANYWAYS," he said loudly, interrupting the group's little laughing fest, "it's time to start the lesson. First thing's first—do any of you have any experience with a gun?"

Nobody raised their hands.

"Anyone…?"

The hands stayed down. Jak sighed.

"Water guns count…"

All four students raised their hands.

"Good," said Jak, nodding approvingly. "Very good. So all of you should at least know how to pull the trigger." He walked across the room and pulled four Scatter guns down off the shelf, motioning for the students to join him.

"I got a bad feeling about this," Whore-hey—er, I mean JORGE—muttered to Gaylord as they got up and walked over to Jak. The blonde nodded in agreement.

"These," said Jak as he handed a gun to each student, "are Scatter guns. They're short-ranged weapons, and kinda slow to reload, so you might not wanna use this if you're gonna raid a Metal Head nest…"

"Why would we wanna raid a Metal Head nest?" Jane asked curiously.

"Oh, we'll be doing that a lot later in the year," Jak replied nonchalantly.

"WHAT?" shouted the kids.

"Yeah, doesn't that sound cool?" Jak said cheerfully. "You'll probably be doing that in some of your other classes as well…"

"Oh Mar, we're gonna die," whimpered Eggbert.

Jak snorted and rolled his eyes. "You're not gonna die! Look at me—I've raided Metal Head nests thousands of times, and I'm still here."

"Well, yeah—you're the star of a best-selling videogame series," Gaylord reminded. "So you can't really die."

It got quiet once again. Eggbert coughed. Jorge shifted uncomfortably. A flier for a Class 3 race rolled by on the non-existent wind.

"…Whatever," Jak finally said. "Back to the lesson—"

At that moment, a short, pale, and creepy looking elf with bright orange hair and tattoos all over his face barged into the room, looking extremely pissed. This was Erol, the Driver's Ed. teacher.

"YOU!" screeched Erol, pointing a trembling finger at Jak. "YOU!"

Jak blinked. "Oh, hi Erol," he said. "What a pleasant surprise."

Erol's eye twitched.

Jane nudged Gaylord. "Isn't he—" she pointed to Jak "—supposed to hate him?" she nodded towards Erol.

"Eh, this is a fanfic written by a bored person," Gaylord replied with a shrug. "So it doesn't have to be in character."

"I know what you're planning!" Erol shouted suddenly.

Jak blinked. "Huh?"

"I won't let you get away with it," the ex-commander continued. "She WILL be mine! MINE!"

"What are you talking about?" cried the confused blonde renegade.

"Keira, you twit!" Erol screeched. "I'm talking about KEIRA!"

"…Oh," Jak said, blinking. Erol's eye twitched.

"Is that all you have to say?" he asked in the best calm voice he could muster.

"…Pretty much."

Erol yanked at his hair and screamed in frustration. "YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!" And with that, he stalked out the door.

"O-kay," Jak said, blinking after him. "That was… interesting…"

* * *

**  
Meanwhile, up in the Main Office... **

Daxter stretched his arms above his head and yawned, kicking back in his chair—a difficult thing to do, seeing as how he was also sitting on a bunch of books.

Life was _good. _His woman had been turned into an ottsel, he was a Precursor--a freakin' _Precursor, _mind you!--he was the head-secretary-ottsel of the office, and best of all, he now had pants! Life couldn't get much better than this.

He suddenly grinned evilly.

Well… maybe it could…

The ottsel quickly grabbed the mic for the PA system and pressed the red button. The PA system crackled to life.

"Attention, peeps," the ottsel said, his nasally voice ringing throughout the school campus. "Welcome to your first—"

"Daxter!" Tess called in a sing-song voice, hopping up onto his desk. "We're out of pizza, an' you n' me haven't had any time together today, an'—what're you doing?"

"Sssh!" said Daxter, forgetting to cover the mic, leaving everyone on the campus to hear their conversation. "I'm talkin' to the school, sugar. Gimme a minute—"

"Oooooo!" Tess squealed. "Can I say something? Can I, can I, can I?" She was literally bouncing up and down in excitement.

"Maybe later, babe," Daxter replied. "I kinda need to make an important announcement.

"Okay," Tess chirped. "But what do ya want on your pizza? I'm callin' in."

"CHEESE," drooled the ottsel. "Lotsa cheese! And pepperoni! And some of those anchovi things! And pineapple slices!"

Tess giggled, kissed her little 'whisker-puss' on the cheek, and skipped away happily.

Daxter turned back to the mic. "As I was saying… Welcome to your first day of school! I am the head secretary ottsel of this office--that means that I practically RULE this school! The name's Orange Lightening, and don't you forget it!"

Over at the gun course, Jak sighed. He still couldn't figure out how they'd managed to hook the PA system up to all the classrooms, which were spread out to all over the city. Heck, they weren't just in Haven either—they were also in Spargus City, Kras City, and the Precursor Temple!

It had to be Vin. Vin was probably the one who did all this. He could do anything… Jak felt a huge blush settle across his face as his mind drifted off to another daydream involving him, Vin, and a ball of yarn. (Trust me when I say that you do not want me to go into detail.) He got so caught up in his little fantasy that he didn't even notice when Eggbert accidentally shot him in the ass, or when Jorge accidentally shot himself in the face.

Didn't matter anyway… The kids couldn't die. They're needed in the story, so they'll just keep coming back from the dead.

Anyways, back to the office…

"I have an important announcement," Daxter declared importantly, "about Erol, the Driver's Ed. teacher. He's actually gay! And he and Torn, the boy's ROTC teacher, are makin' out in the janitor's closet at this very moment!"

At that moment, two howls of rage drifted across the city. Daxter paid them no mind.

"So if you're a guy and you have Driver's Ed., watch out! Erol's a sex maniac, and Torn ain't enough to satisfy him."

**_BAM! _**

Daxter eeped. Torn and Erol stood in the doorway, both looking completely outraged.

"Hehe… Hey guys," Daxter laughed nervously. "Hehe… so… how 'bout that race last night, eh? Heh… Hehehe… Heh…"

The two "lovers" began to stalk towards him menacingly.

The ottsel gulped. "Now boys, let's not get violent! It was all fun and games… right?"

* * *

"OW! YEOWCH! EEP! I DON'T THINK THAT'S SUPPOSED TO BEND LIKE THA—ACK! MY ARM!" 

Jak and his class listened silently as Daxter got the living shit kicked out of him.

"Looks like he forgot to turn the mic off," Jak observed.

"Um, sir? Don't you think you should bandage that up?" Gaylord suggested timidly, gesturing towards Jak's butt wound.

"Yeah, Jane's really good with bandages," Eggbert chimed in, jerking his thumb over to Jane, who was busy wrapping up Jorge's head.

Jak blinked and looked down at his butt, which was oozing blood. "Oh… look at that…" he said blankly.

Then he let out a high-pitched, girly scream and proceeded to run around the room in circles, clutching his butt.

The kids watched all this silently.

"You know, after this, I'm kinda scared to see what our next class is gonna be like," Jane finally said.

Jorge gave a muffled grunt of agreement.

* * *

**  
Period Two: Outdoor Living with Samos **

A short while later, the kids found themselves in a lush, green forest under a big ol' tree. It was very peaceful.

Jorge wasn't very happy, however. His nose itched. Unfortunately, he could not scratch it, as his head was still bandaged up. And he absolutely refused to let anyone try to scratch it with a pencil (which was the only thing that could get through the bandages), as he was scared that they might poke his eye out.

So he was left to emit muffled groans of unhappiness and to think evil thoughts.

"Oh, do shut up, Whore-hey," Jane, who was sprawled out near the base of the tree, finally said after listening to him for twenty minutes.

"MM MHMM MHN'M MMHRM-MMH!" Jorge shouted from beneath his bandages. Unfortunately, no one could understand him, and I am sure you can't either, so I'll translate. "MM MHMM MHN'M MMHRM-MMH!" means "MY NAME ISN'T WHORE-HEY!"

Everyone ignored him, much to his dismay.

"This teacher's late, too," Eggbert announced after a moment of silence.

"No shit, sherlock!" Gaylord snapped, tossing a handful of grass at the boy named after an egg named Bert.

Eggbert, in turn, scowled and tossed a handful of grass at the boy named after a gay lord.

And before they knew it, the two idiots were engaged in a huge grass-tossing war. Innocent blades of grass flew everywhere in the onslaught. Poor grass…

Jane watched this silently. Jorge groaned some more.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

Everyone jumped, looking around wildly. That's when they saw the teacher.

He was old. He was VERY old. He had green skin, and one of his eyes was bigger than the other. Oh wait… That was just his glasses. He had a long white beard, and unless they were mistaken, his long white hair was wrapped around a log. Yes, that's right, a log. There was a very pretty blue and yellow bird sitting on the log, chirping. Such a happy bird for such a unhappy elf…

"WHAT'RE YOU DOING?" the teacher screeched again. This was Samos, the Green Sage. He was also the Outdoor Living teacher. And he was PISSED.

"Um… playing?" Eggbert said weakly.

**_BONK! _**

Eggbert fell over, dazed. A lovely lump, courtesy of Samos's Almighty-and-Powerful-Stick-of-**DOOM**, was slowly rising on his head. Samos stood over him, breathing hard.

The sage whirled around to the remaining three, a manic gleam in his eyes.

"DON'T YOU EVER HARM THE GRASS!" he roared, brandishing his stick. "DON'T YOU EVER HARM ANY PLANT, PERIOD! PLANTS HAVE FEELINGS TOO! HOW WOULD YOU FEEL IF YOU WERE SUDDENLY YANKED UP AND THROWN EVERYWHERE?" The three idiots cowered.

"Hey, Gaylord was doing it, too!" Eggbert protested weakly, propping himself up on his elbows. "He was pulling the grass out, too!"

**_BONK! _**

Eggbert fell over once more.

"HA!" Gaylord crowed, pointing at his fallen friend.

**_BONK! _**

Gaylord joined his friend on the ground. Samos turned to Jane and Jorge menacingly.

"Either one of you wanna join 'em?" he growled, raising his stick threateningly. Jane and Jorge shook their heads furiously, cowering still.

"Good," Samos sniffed before looking back down at Eggbert and Gaylord. "You two," he growled, "are going to apologize to the poor grass for treating it so badly!"

"I ain't apologizing to no grass!" Gaylord protested.

**_BONK! _**

"YES, you will!" shouted Samos. "Unless you want another piece of this!" He waved his stick under Gaylord's nose. The blonde whimpered unhappily.

* * *

Ten minutes later, after being forced to give a lengthy, long-winded apology to the grass, Eggbert and Gaylord found themselves sitting beside their two friends under the tree, sporting lovely lumps upon their noggins. Samos, having calmed down dramatically, stood in front of them. 

"Now then," he said pleasantly. "Let's get down to business…" He reached into his pocket and pulled out one of those electric attendance book devices.

"Okay…" he muttered to himself as he began to fiddle around with it. "How do you turn these things on…?"

He then began to do what Jak had done, pressing random buttons and smacking the device with his palm. The device remained unresponsive.

"It's deja-vu all over again," Eggbert muttered to Jane, who nodded in agreement.

Samos swore and began to smash it against the tree, but the device's response was to just start spewing sparks. "Oh, whatever!" he finally huffed, throwing the device over his shoulder. It flipped in the air a few times before landing on a pointy rock and breaking into a bunch of pieces.

"Hey… there are no girls in this class," Samos suddenly said, blinking.

"I'm a girl," said Jane, but Samos didn't seem to hear her.

"Huh… That's odd… I wonder where all the girls are…"

"_I'M _a girl!" Jane repeated, louder this time. Samos still didn't seem to hear her.

"I could've sworn there was supposed to be girls in this class…" he continued to mutter.

_"I'M A GIRL! MY NAME IS JANE! I HAVE LONG HAIR AND A SQUEAKY VOICE! AND I HAVE **BOOBS! BOOBS, **I TELL YOU!" _Jane screeched, yanking at her hair in frustration. The boys jumped. Samos blinked. (Jorge was quite tempted to inform her that she was actually flat-chested, but decided against it. And even if he did, it was doubtful that anyone would've been able to understand him, giving his current bandaged state.)

"Oh," he said blankly. "I thought you were a boy… Sorry about that."

Jane's eye twitched for the hundredth time that day as she growled. Samos merely shrugged and turned to the three boys. "And what are your names?"

"Eggbert."

"Gaylord—and he's Whore-hey."

"MMHMM!" ("JORGE!")

Samos blinked a couple times. "What cruel parents you have," he finally said. "And why in Precursor's name is that boy's head all wrapped up?" He gestured to the fuming Jorge.

"He shot himself in the face in shooting class," said Jane.

"Yeah, and I shot the teacher in his butt!" Eggbert chimed in proudly.

Samos stared. "You shot Jak in the…?"

"Uh-huh!" Eggbert nodded. Samos sighed.

"He was probably daydreaming about Vin again," he muttered, shaking his head. "That boy would lose his head if it wasn't attached to his shoulders… No matter… Now then," he straightened up importantly to his full height of four feet, three inches. "I am Samos, the Green Sage. You will address me as Professor Samos. Is that clear?"

"Yes," the four students answered obediently.

"Yes what?"

"Yes Professor Samos."

"Good. Now, on to the basics…"

* * *

**  
(1)THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT! Jorge is a Spanish name, and it really does sound like Whore-hey. This is important for the rest of the story, so don't forget it! **

**Like it? Hate it? Thought it was okay? Lemme know. Criticism is always welcome!**


	2. Chappeh Two

**IMPORTANT: If for some reason you'd ever want to find out what classes are gonna take place in this story and/or see who's gonna be teaching that class, OR if you want to read some sneak peaks for this story for chapters that'll come later, then go to my bio. I've got it aaaaallllll listed there.**

**LAST EDITED: July 13, 2007 (Not quite as bad as the last chapter, but there were still plenty of things to change.) **

**Disclaimer:** **I do not own Jak and Daxter. If I did, I'd have put in a good couple hundred scenes with Jak without his shirt on. And obviously, you do not see any of those in the game, now do you?**

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**Chappeh Two**

**Period Three—ROTC with Torn and Ashelin**

* * *

**  
Out at The Grassy Courtyard Place with the Giant Vegetables…**

'Well,' Jane thought as she looked around, 'at least I now know that I'm not the only girl in this psycho school.'

And it was true. All around her were groups of girls, spread out around the area, laughing and chatting together. There weren't really a lot of 'em—only about fourteen girls in all, aside from Jane herself—but it was enough so that she didn't feel so out-of-place anymore. Unfortunately, none of the girls seemed interested in talking to her.

Jane scowled. Well, whatever. That was fine by her. She didn't need any of 'em! She already had Eggbert and Gaylord and Whore-hey…

She sighed sadly at this depressing thought. Luckily for her, though, she wouldn't have to dwell on this for long.

"TEN-HUT!"

The girl's ROTC teacher had arrived. It was Ashelin, Vice Principal Baron Praxis's daughter.

Tall, red-haired, and with a body that would put many a Play Elf model to shame, she was quite a sight to behold. The tattoos etched all across her face merely attributed to her sexiness. Jane suddenly felt a huge wave of insecurity. The other girls did too, judging by the way they were poking their chests gloomily and glaring enviously at Ashelin's body.

Ashelin didn't seem to be aware of any of this. "Line up!" she barked loudly. The students scurried around the courtyard, trying to form a straight line.

Unfortunately for Jane, she ended up all the way at the end, only a few feet away from Ashelin. They locked eyes.

'Uh-oh,' she thought as she felt that all-too-familiar sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. 'Somethin' bad's about to happen…'

And she was right.

"What the hell do you think you're doing here?" Ashelin barked, glaring at Jane, who looked terrified.

"H-huh?" was the stuttering reply.

"Why aren't you over there in the boys ROTC class?" the red head demanded, marching over to the startled idiot.

"B-but I'm not a boy!" squeaked Jane. "I'm a girl! Really!"

"Nice try," snapped Ashelin, grabbing the girl's collar. "But that won't work here!"

And so, despite Jane's many wails of protest, Ashelin forcibly dragged the unhappy student all the way over to the next courtyard, where the boys ROTC class was still waiting for their teacher to arrive.

Strangely enough, there were only six kids in that class—Eggbert, Gaylord, Jorge, and two little midgets whose names are not important right now. They watched the approaching student and teacher silently.

"But I AM a girl!" Jane was wailing unhappily, struggling against Ashelin's iron grip.

"That's what you all say," Ashelin snarled back, quickening her pace. "You boys and your overactive glands… hoping to to get a little a little show when it was time for everyone to change, huh?"

"NO!" sobbed Jane. "I'm a girl—" It was then that she spotted her three friends. "Tell her!" she said, her voice strangely high-pitched. "Tell her that I'm a girl!"

But alas, the boys were too busy drooling over the leggy, buxom Ashelin to pay any attention to their plain, flat chested friend.

"GUYS!" Jane wailed. "TELL HER! TELL HER I'M A GIRL!"

"No you're not," Gaylord said immediately.

"Yeah, you're just a cool guy with long hair," Eggbert chimed in. (It should be noted that Jorge also said something, but as his head was still bandaged up, no one could understand him, so whatever he said has been deemed unimportant.)

"BUT I'M NOT!" Jane screeched. "My name is JANE!"

"So you're a cool guy with long hair named Jane," Eggbert sighed, shaking his head. "We've all got our problems—no reason to go sneak into the girls class to watch 'em undress."

And that was all Ashelin needed to hear.

* * *

Torn was running very, very late. 

"Move it, road-hog!" he screeched to the man in front of him. The man gave him the finger. Torn growled unhappily. He then lowered his zoomer to low zone and proceeded to zoom towards his classroom (which was really just a courtyard where the city farming committee was growing a bunch of giant vegetables), knocking innocent pedestrians this way and that.

Why did Ashelin insist on "punishing" him, for "being bad" by tying him up and leaving him all alone in the janitors closet with the lights on? Or at least, why did she insist on doing it TODAY? On his first day of teaching? WHY?

Torn scowled. Hell, it wasn't like he even TOUCHED Erol—why would Ashelin believe what the rat had said over the announcements that morning? He wouldn't touch that orange haired psycho with a ten foot pole.

He would, however, be very happy to touch Jak… To kiss him… To wrestle and, ah, "play horsie" with him…

Torn drooled as that last thought sent some mental images into his mind. This resulted into him crashing the zoomer into several fruit carts and buildings before he finally pulled himself out of his little fantasy land and returned his attention to the road.

The courtyard came into view. Torn checked his watch and sighed in relief; he was only fifteen minutes late. That was MUCH better than he'd expected…

He parked his zoomer by the giant tomatoes and jogged towards the small group of kids (was that it? Where was the rest of the class?). As he got closer, he could see a small, scrawny boy with long brown hair and a high-pitched voice screaming at three other students, who appeared to be cowering.

"Why the hell did you say that?" the boy was screeching. "Why didn't you tell her the truth, you idiots?"

"We're sorry!" wailed a tall, blonde haired boy. "We just sort of forgot—"

"YOU FORGOT?" screeched the first boy, yanking at his long hair in frustration. "HOW THE HELL COULD YOU FORGET?"

Torn sighed. He did not need all this yelling. He needed a nice, quiet class. So he reached into his shirt and pulled out his whistle.

The first boy hadn't finished his rant. "AND ANOTHER THING—"

Torn put the whistle to his lips and blew.

_TWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEET!_

Two things happened; one, the first boy stopped ranting. That was good. Unfortunately (and this is the second thing), the ranting was replaced by loud screeching and wails of pain as the kids fell down and rolled around on the ground, clutching their ears in agony.

Torn was in the house.

* * *

**  
Lunchtime…**

_BRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNG!_

After an hour of torture with Torn screaming, yelling, and spraying the poor students with spit (not to mention throwing a HUGE tantrum after discovering that he had no clue how to work those damned attendance book things), it was finally time for lunch.

The boys ROTC courtyard interrupted in cheers at the sound of the lunch bell. Torn swore loudly, looking quite disappointed that he couldn't torture his students anymore.

The PA system crackled to life once more, though this time it was Tess's voice that came out (for the record, Daxter was still in a light coma from that morning's earlier assault on his person, courtesy of Erol and Torn).

"Attention please, attention! All students whose third period classes take place around the ROTC courtyards, including Haven Forest, need to go to the Naughty Ottsel for lunch! I repeat, you need to go to the Naught Ottsel for lunch! That also includes classes taking place in the shooting range, in the Palace, and in the racing garage!"

"Well that's just great!" Jane said angrily as she and the other six ran out of the courtyard at top speed. "The Naughty Ottsel! Wonderful! Just how he hell are we supposed to know where that is?"

"It's in the harbor!" squeaked one of the midgets, who had curly, dirty-blonde hair.

"How the hell do you know that?"

"Because," said the second midget, who had short brown hair, "we drew a map of the entire campus!" He held up said map to prove it.

"Nice," Eggbert said approvingly, patting the second midgets head.

"HEY!" Gaylord shouted hoarsely, almost to the point of collapsing. "Could-_pant_-we stop-_cough hack wheeze_-running already-_choke choke_-please?"

And so they did.

* * *

**  
At the Naughty Ottsel**

Ten minutes later, the four idiots found themselves at the Naughty Ottsel, sitting in one of the booths, and staring at their lunch in complete disbelief.

"…Somebody's been eating my porridge," Eggbert finally said.

Gaylord gave him a weird look. "That's a turkey sandwich, Eggbert."

Said boy blinked. "Oh… Right. I knew that. But, uh… WHY are we being served half-eaten food?" He pointed his sandwich, which had huge bite marks on it where someone had obviously helped themselves.

Jane frowned moodily, poking her half-eaten sausage with her fork. "I dunno, but it's disgusting."

Then, suddenly, the whole table was covered in shadow. The idiots looked up to see something very big and very wide blocking out the light.

"It's an eclipse of the sun!" shrieked Gaylord, obviously forgetting that they were inside a bar and were not, in fact, outside where the sun was.

"No," said Jane, looking terrified. "It's not an eclipse… It's—"

The thing floated away from the light, revealing that it was a very, VERY fat man on an electronic floating device.

It was Krew, the lunch-serving person.

"Enjoying a good lunch, ey?" he wheezed, leering at the shocked students. "Hope you don't mind… I, ah… helped myself beforehand… as a little sample, ey?"

The idiots whimpered in reply.

Krew smacked his lips, making his many chins wobble, as he plucked a half-eaten drumstick from Jane's plate. "I'm particularly fond of these, you know… Hope you don't mind if I help myself to, ah… Another little sample, ey?"

The kids watched in horrified fascination as Krew swallowed the drumstick whole, bone and all. Jane's eye gave a violent twitch.

Krew smacked his lips again. "Ah, very good, very good! Quite tasty, I must say—" That's when he spotted the two midgets from Torn's ROTC class. A hungry, animalistic look spread across his face. He was (quite literally) drooling—and it was landing all over Eggbert's plate.

"Eww!" squealed Jane, who was sitting beside Eggbert.

"Babies," drooled Krew as he slowly floated over to the midgets, trailing drool behind him. The two midgets watched him approach fearfully. The fat man stopped once he was in front of their table.

A moment passed… then another… then another. The two midgets fidgeted nervously.

Then Krew suddenly screamed, "GET INTO MAH BELLY!" The midgets jumped and clutched each other fearfully. Over at the booth, the four idiots stared.

"GET INTO MAH BELLEH, SHRIMPY!" Krew bellowed to the first midget (the blonde one) who shall henceforth be known as Shrimpy.

"Krew!" Tess, who was helping with kitchen duties that day, screeched from the kitchen. "Stop terrorizing the midgets! You CANNOT eat the students!"

Krew ignored her. "I want my baby back, baby back, baby back ribs…." he sang to himself softly, leering at the midgets. "I want my baby back, baby back, baby back ribs… Chili's baby back ribs…"

The second midget whimpered, and Krew turned his full attention on him.

"Get into mah belleh!" he roared. "Get into mah belleh, small fry!"

Small Fry and Shrimpy screamed in terror and took off, running out of the Naughty Ottsel as fast as their little legs would carry them. Krew attempted to chase them, but because of his excessive fattiness, got stuck in the door. He let out a colorful string of curses as he attempted to unstuck himself.

The four idiots just sat there and watched all this silently.

Needless to say, many a student in that area went hungry for the rest of the day, because once Krew finally managed to unstuck himself, he threw a huge tantrum and ate every single bit of food he could find.

Eh, didn't matter anyway… the kids wouldn't have eaten the food. I mean, really, who wants to eat half-eaten food? Honestly…

* * *

**  
Period Four—Cooking with Kliever**

Once again, the teacher was late. And once again, the four idiots were the only students in the class.

We join the idiots WAY outside of Haven City, in the middle of the wasteland, inside the little garage part of Spargus City. Because of the heat, not to mention the rather unpleasing odor of sweat and dirty socks that was wafting around inside the garage, the four students were feeling quite miserable.

"What's with this heat?" Jorge finally shouted, whose bandages had finally been removed. All four of them were sprawled out on the ground face-up, sweating buckets.

"W-w-w-w-water!" wheezed Gaylord.

"I think my life's about to pass before my eyes…" Eggbert murmured feebly.

"What life?" muttered Jane.

"YOU'RE SO HURTFUL!" Eggbert wailed. "AND TO THINK THAT I STARTED TO LIKE YOU!"

Jane lifted her head weakly to look at her friend.

"Really?" she asked. Eggbert nodded, sniffing loudly.

"I'm… I'm sorry," Jane muttered, looking guilty. "I just… don't wanna… die. I like you, too."

Eggbert sniffed and looked at Jane hopefully. "Really?"

"Really."

Gaylord and Jorge looked at each other.

Then—

"EGGBERT AND JANE SITTIN' IN A TREE! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"

"Hey! S-shut up!" Jane screeched, her face a beet red.

"Yeah!" Eggbert added, also blushing. "We don't like each other like THAT—"

"Sure," said Gaylord as he and Jorge traded smirks. "Whatever you say…"

"We don't!" shouted Eggbert. Gaylord and Jorge just snickered. Jane looked highly embarrassed, her face having turned a rather unattractive shade of rouge. And Eggbert… looked extremely frustrated.

The door to the garage suddenly opened. The kids turned around to look… and stared.

"Oh my lord…" murmured Jorge.

The teacher was huge. I'm talkin' sumo wrestler-size huge; not quite as fat as Krew, but definitely hard to miss. He was a mix of excessive fattiness and steely muscle. The top of his head was bald and rimmed with long blonde hair. He had a scarred face, partially hidden behind a bushy mustache. He loomed in the doorway, glaring at them with narrowed eyes. After a moment, he tromped into the garage heavily, making the ground shake.

Gaylord whimpered as the giant came closer… and closer… before finally coming to a stop by the boy's head. Gaylord gulped audibly.

It was Kliever, the cooking instructor.

…What? What's so funny? Hey, cooking is a very hard class! It's practically a war on it's own! And Kliever is a very good cook, especially when you find yourself in a Metal Head nest, surrounded by Metal Pede on all sides and almost to the point of starving to death—grab him a couple of the suckers, and he'll cook you up a mean Metal Pede fillet in a mere two minutes!

…Besides, by the time that Kliever found out the others were starting a school, the cooking class was the only one without a teacher. And the fat man really needed the money…

Curling his hairy lip, Kliever looked down his nose at Gaylord in disgust. "What're ye doin' down there?"

Gaylord gulped again. "Um… We were just… you know… resting."

Kliever growled, obviously displeased with the answer. "Restin'?" he repeated.

"Y-yes?"

In one swift movement, Kliever picked Gaylord up by his neck and dangled him up in the air. Jane squealed in alarm.

"What're you doing?" she shrieked. "Put him down! He can't breathe!"

Kliever turned his glare-of-DEATH onto the girl, who shrank back in fear. "What was that?"

Jane shook her head quickly. "N-nothing…"

"Choking! N-not breathing!" wheezed Gaylord. Kliever looked back to his victim.

"Now you listen here, poppy," he growled menacingly, pulling the poor boy close. "There'll be no restin' in this class—not as long as I'm teachin'. Restin' is for weaklin's. You got that?"

Gasping, Gaylord managed a weak nod. Kliever dropped him, and the boy landed on the ground face first with a loud THUNK.

He turned to the rest of the class. "All right, you lot. Line up in a straight line, it's time to start the lesson—" He stopped and glared at Jane, who had raised her hand timidly, looking terrified. "What?"

Jane flinched. "Um, excuse me, but… aren't you going to take attendance?"

"Can't," said Kliever.

"Uh… why?"

"Couldn't figure out how to work them damn things," the fat man replied, jerking his thumb over to a pile of bent up metal that spewed sparks every five seconds.

"…Oh," said Jane dumbly.

"Wow," said Eggbert, looking impressed. "You must be really strong!"

Kliever grinned, puffing his chest out. (This made him look even fatter than before.) "I'm a Wastelander, kid," he said gruffly. "Ya gotta be strong if ya wanna survive."

"Wow," Eggbert repeated breathlessly.

"Alright," Kliever boomed, clapping his hands. "On with the lesson…"

* * *

**  
Over at the Gun Course...**

Jak was not having a good day.

First, he got shot in the butt. Then at lunch, Kiera had been acting weird, talking about how much she loved the flowers he sent her. That confused him. He hadn't sent her any flowers! When he told her this, she burst into tears and ran out of the bar, sobbing. Then Erol came over to him and started shouting at him some more, cursing him for making Kiera cry and trying to take credit for the gifts that HE, Erol, had sent her. Not to mention Krew had gone on a rampage and ate every single bit of food in the place.

And now this.

"Damas," he hissed through clenched teeth, "I thought we talked about this! You're not supposed to come in here while I'm teaching—"

Damas sighed loudly, cutting his son off. "But Jak," he whined, "we need to spend time together! We've finally FOUND each other! We need to do some serious bonding!"

"But I'm trying to TEACH!" the blonde hissed, gesturing furiously to the small class of seven that was watching the two men with wide eyes. Two of the students were Shrimpy and Small Fry, the midgets from Torn's ROTC class and no. 1 on Krew's Must-Eat list.

"Wow… They must be close," Small Fry whispered. Shrimpy nodded.

"You need a hug, don't you?" Damas said suddenly. Jak's eyes widened.

"N-no!" he said nervously, backing away from his father a bit. "No hugs! We made a deal—"

"C'mere boy!" Damas laughed, charging toward the blonde with open arms. Jak shrieked in fear as his father swooped him up into a huge bear hug.

"HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?" Jak screeched, struggling furiously to get out of his father's arms.

"Don't fight the love, Jak!" Damas shouted back, tightening his hold on the blonde.

The students watched this exchange in horrified fascination.

"They're GAY," one student finally whispered. The rest of the class gasped in horror.

Damas and Jak remained oblivious to this however, as the blonde fought tooth and nail to get away from the crazed sand king… who just so happened to also be the principal of the entire school.

Mar help us all…

* * *

**  
Oh ja--the Palace is also the main office. Forgot to mention that last chapter. Sorry about that!**

**Also, I apologize for making Damas so out of character, but it was purely all for the sake of humor. The sacrifices I make to insure that people get a good laugh...**


	3. Chappeh Three

**Disclaimer: NO. I do not own the Jak and Daxter series, or their respective characters and locations. If I did, oh, there'd be so many things I would do… Muwhahahahahahahahahahaha!**

**LAST EDITED: July 13, 2007 (Yes, I'm rewriting a bunch of stuff. Cause this fic seriously needed improving. Deal with it.)**

**School of Jak**

**Chappeh Three**

* * *

**  
Still with Jak...**

About five minutes later, Jak finally managed to get rid of Damas. He was now trying to get his class back in order, which was proving to be a difficult task. The kids kept STARING at him while whispering things to each other behind their hands.

It was making him nervous.

"Alright!" he said loudly, clapping his hands together. "Back to the lesson!" The kids stopped whispering to each other but continued to stare at him with wide eyes. Jak did his best to ignore this.

"Go over there to the crates and get yourselves some Scatter guns," he ordered, gesturing to the many crates lying around the room. The kids did as they were told, continuing to watch him wearily. Once all the students had a gun, Jak led them into the shooting part of the gun course.

"Now I'm gonna teach you how to use the gun," Jak declared, getting his gun ready. "You need to hold it like this." He turned and showed them how to hold it. "Now you try."

The kids attempted to copy their teacher. Jak sighed when he saw that Shrimpy was holding his gun incorrectly.

"No, no, no," he said, striding over to the midget. "You need to hold it like _this—" _He then tried to put the boy's arms in the correct position. Unfortunately this involved Jak putting his arms around Shrimpy's body, which caused the boy to completely freak out.

With a loud shriek, Shrimpy tore away from Jak. "Get away from me! You dirty old man!"

Jak blinked, shocked and confused. "Dirty old man…?" he repeated stupidly.

Shrimpy cowered behind Small Fry, sobbing, clearly traumatized. Jak just shook his head. Something told him that he did NOT want to know what was going on.

"Okay," he sighed. "Whatever. Back to the lesson… Now that all of you know how to hold a gun, it's time for you to learn how to shoot it."

As if on cue, a little metal head target popped up. Jak pointed to the target. "This is what you're going to be shooting at. You need to shoot at least five of them for you to pass the lesson today."

He then aimed his gun at the target, saying, "This is how you need to shoot…" He pulled the trigger, and the target exploded into little scraps of cardboard confetti.

Jak grinned. Oh, how he loved the smell of burnt cardboard in the morning… or afternoon… whatever. He looked back at the class and saw their blank (but still weary!) expressions.

He sighed. "Another example…" Once more, a target popped up. Jak took aim, focusing on the target. He began to pull the trigger.

Then—

_"YOU DIRTY OLD MAN!"_ shouted a random student suddenly.

Startled, Jak jumped and pulled the trigger. Unfortunately, his aim had been completely off, and he hit something that definitely WASN'T the target.

"_OW!_ _BLOODY HELL!"_

Jak blinked. He had shot Jane… in the butt. A feeling of déjà vu settled over him.

"Hello, Jane!" he called. "What're you doing here? Shouldn't you be in your third period class?"

_"YOU SHOT ME!"_ the enraged girl screeched back, clutching her butt in pain.

"You didn't answer my question," Jak shot back. Jane growled angrily.

"She's with me!"

Enter Kliever. Jak smirked.

"Hello, Kliever," he said cheerfully. "How's the cooking class goin'?"

Kliever bared his teeth into a menacing grin.

"Just fine, boyo, just fine," he growled. "Just teachin' the class how to cook."

Jak blinked. "Why aren't you holding your class in your garage back at Spargus City?"

Kliever huffed. "For your information, today's lesson is taking place here."

"But my class is taking place here too," Jak pointed out. The fat man rolled his eyes in reply.

"I KNOW. I'm teaching the shrimps here how to cook fried lurker shark while under gun fire."

Jak stared. "Lurker shark?"

"Yup. Taught the kids how to catch one, too," Kliever said proudly, jerking his thumb over his shoulder to the kids with a highly disturbing grin on his face. Jak saw that Eggbert, Jorge, and Gaylord were all bandaged from head-to-toe, a decapitated lurker shark at their feet. Jane was attempting to bandage herself—unsuccessfully, I might add.

Jak shook his head in disbelief. "You've finally lost it, Kliever."

The fat man shrugged. "Eh, maybe. Just go back to teachin' your class already so I can get back to mine." And with that, he turned and walked back to his students. Jak gaped after him.

"…You do realize that my class is gonna be shooting at you and the kids, right?" he finally said loudly.

Kliever, crouching in front of a little make-shift stove, waved back to him cheerfully. "That's fine! That's exactly what I wanted! It'll give the kids some experience."

Behind Kliever's back, Eggbert held up a sign.

"**PLEASE SAVE US!"** read the sign. Jak just shrugged. He had his own class to worry about. They needed to learn how to shoot targets, and Kliever HAD already given him the okay to go ahead. So…

"You heard the man!" Jak said loudly to his class, waving his hand in the other group's direction. "Have at thee!"

Dozens of targets popped up around Kliever's class. Kliever nodded approvingly. The four idiots looked horrified.

_"ARE YOU INSANE?"_ screeched Jane. _"HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?"_

Jak just shrugged. "What do you expect me to do? During third period, you're not my responsibility."

Kliever nodded in agreement. "Exactly."

Jak turned back to his class and shouted. "Okay kids—fire away!"

The shooting class looked at each other for a moment. Then they shrugged.

"He IS the teacher… sorry," one boy muttered apologetically to the four idiots.

Then the kids readied their guns…

…Aimed…

…and fired.

_**BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM!**_

"_AAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEE!"_

"Alright, poppies, listen carefully; put just a little bit o' salt over the fish—"

_**BAM BAM BAM BAM—**_

_"ACK! MY EYE!"_

"Uh-oh… don' worry 'bout that, poppy. The blood'll add extra flavor to it…"

_**BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM—**_

_"GAAAAAAAH! UGH, THE LIFE I LIVE IS SAD!"_

"Careful now—aim for the space between her shoulders!"

_"MR. JAK! ARE YOU **TRYING** TO KILL US?"_

"No—I'm just helping them to become better shooters!"

_**BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM!**_

Oh dear lord in heaven…

* * *

**  
Period Four: Computer Education/Math**

"Ow… ow… OW… ow…"

"Oh for the love of MAR, would you PLEASE shut UP, Jorge?" Jane sighed. Jorge glared at her, outraged.

"NO! No I won't! this has been the absolute WORST day of my life! I've been shot—"

"Once by yourself!"

"—almost got my hand ripped off by a stupid lurker shark, got yelled and screeched at by our ROTC teacher from hell, I've been served HALF-EATEN food for lunch—"

"That wasn't SO bad… at least he didn't try to eat you, right?"

"—I've been humiliated countless times, everyone's convinced that my name is WHORE-HEY, and I think I'm starting to get a BLISTER on my finger! I'm completely miserable!"

Jane scowled. "Well how do you think _I _feel? I've been shot in the ass by our shooting instructor! And everyone thinks I'm a boy! And I got shot in the ass by our own TEACHER!"

"You guys are always moaning on and on about nobody but yourselves," interrupted Eggbert. "How do you think Gaylord and I feel? We've been whacked over the head with some old guys stick, and shot at, and Gaylord was nearly strangled by that crazed cooking teacher." Gaylord nodded in agreement.

Jane rolled her eyes. "Okay, so now that we all agree that we're all completely miserable, what are we going to do?"

The four idiots were now sitting in the Power Room together on the floor, as there were no desks or anything to sit upon. All of them were swathed in bandages, faces smudged with dirt and clothes considerably torn and dirty. They looked quite scruffy indeed.

And once again (to no one's surprise, but extreme annoyance) the teacher was nowhere to be found.

"This is becoming monotonous, isn't it?" Eggbert remarked when Gaylord pointed this out. The other three nodded.

"Hey, isn't our teacher for this class named Vin?" Jane asked suddenly. Jorge nodded.

"Yeah… why?"

"Doesn't Mr. Jak have a crush on some guy named Vin?"

The three boys blinked stupidly. "Oh yeeeeeeeah…" said Eggbert. "At least, that's what Professor Samos said, right?"

Jane shrugged. "Something like that…"

They fell silent again, unsure of what to say.

"…I'm hungry," Jane finally whined, clutching her stomach.

"Me too," Gaylord muttered unhappily.

"Me three," Eggbert chimed in.

Jorge was too busy angsting over what a horrible day he was having to agree.

"Maybe this teacher'll have something to eat…" Gaylord said hopefully.

Before either of his friends could answer, the door opened and Vin walked in.

He was looking even more scruffy and nervous than usual, and unless Eggbert was mistaken (and he was sure he wasn't) he was talking to himself while twitching spastically. The kids studied him silently for a bit.

"This school is a madhouse," Gaylord said finally. This sudden comment made Vin jump about six feet into the air and look around wildly, obviously scared senseless.

"ARGH!" he said when he saw the kids. He looked absolutely terrified. The four idiots looked at each other.

"I am never coming back to this school again," Jorge declared. His friends just shrugged.

"Hi," Eggbert said to Vin finally, attempting to put a friendly smile on his face. His mama had always taught him the importance of being friendly to others, no matter how screwed up they were.

"W-who are you?" Vin stuttered.

"Your students," Eggbert replied cheerfully.

_"LIES!"_ Vin screeched. _"ALL LIES! THEY SENT YOU HERE TO KILL ME, DIDN'T THEY?"_

"No!" shouted Eggbert, holding up his hands. "We're not gonna hurt ya! We're just here to learn—honest!"

Vin stared at them silently for a moment before sighing and shaking his head.

"S-sorry," he muttered, running a trembling hand through his graying hair. "I've b-been a bit j-jumpy lately…" He suddenly turned to them sharply, a wild, manic gleam in his eyes. "They're all after me, you know."

The four idiots blinked. Vin continued talking, more to himself now than to the kids.

"They're all out to get me… all of them… Oh, they don't know I know, but believe me, I do! I can see it in their eyes… They want me dead… They're scared… They know what I'm planning…"

"Um… Mr. Vin?" Jane said timidly, eyeing the man wearily. Vin ignored her.

"They'll pay… They'll all pay! After I take over this city… I'll make them suffer… I'll torture them slowly… till they beg for mercy! _MUWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"_ He ended his rant by cackling insanely.

The four idiots cowered.

"Wow," Jorge said once Vin stopped laughing. "That was a really good rant!" Vin's face brightened.

"Really?" he asked eagerly. "Ya think? I've been practicing a lot, you know, trying to get my monologue speeches and rants just right—I'm even taking classes at this school for evil villains and future world conquerors! See?" He pulled out a pamphlet for the school and showed it to them.

Jane, Eggbert, and Gaylord just blinked again. Jorge, however, found all of this to be fascinating.

"Awesome!" he said, his eyes scanning eagerly over the pamphlet. "What other kind of stuff do they teach?"

"All sorts!" Vin said excitedly. "History of Global Conquest, Fortress/Lair Construction, Henchmen Management and Control, Monologue Management—Hey! Ya wanna hear some stuff from my 'When I'm An Evil Overlord' rulebook?"

"Yeah!"

Without a moments hesitation, Vin dug into his pocket and yanked out a small, official-looking black book with red lettering on the front. He opened it and flipped through the pages, muttering to himself. The kids watched this silently, though Jorge seemed to be the only one eager to hear what Vin was going to read.

After a moment, the scruffy man finally seemed to find the page he was looking for. He straightened his goggles and cleared his throat loudly. Jorge leaned forward eagerly. The other three exchanged incredulous looks.

"When I'm an evil overlord," Vin read aloud, "my Legions of Terror will have helmets with clear plexi-glass visors, not face concealing ones. I will not gloat over my enemy's predicament before killing them—I will do that after. The hero will not be entitled to a last kiss, a last cigarette, or any form of last request. Nor will I ever utter he sentence, 'But before I kill you, there's just one last thing I want to know.' And despite it's proven stress relieving effect, I will not indulge in maniacal laughter. When so occupied, it's too easy to miss unexpected accidents that can give the hero the upper-hand…"

Jorge was positively trembling in excitement, a very disturbing grin on his face the other three idiots just continued to stare in horrified silence.

* * *

**  
So, did ya like it? Hate it? Or do you simply feel indifferent? Lemme know! TTFN—ta ta for now!**


	4. Chappeh Four

**Hi… Yes, this chapter's late. I know.**

**I haven't updated in over a year. I **_**know.**_** And I am sorry, but… what can I say? I've been busy. ****Anyways, here's the fourth chappeh. I made it extra-long to make up for the insane wait. **

**IMPORTANT!:**** Go back and look over the previous chapters. I've changed a lot to make it better. So if you're not new to this fic and loved the chapters before, you'll love 'em even more, now! Also, I've used German in this chapter. It'll probably be in italics. So if you see him saying '_Was?,' _it's not 'was,' it's German for 'what.' Just so ya know.**

**Disclaimer:**** I own nothing except for the students. And I don't own the Martin Luther King Jr. quote that's in the beginning of the fic. I own practically nothing! DON'T SUE ME, PLEASE! I HAVE NO MONEY! –sobs-**

**School of Jak**

**Chappeh Four**

* * *

_  
BRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!_

Ah, the last bell of the school day. The most beautiful sound in the world. Almost as soon as it ended, the many doors of the school campus (which, may I remind you, stretched out several cities) banged open, and thousands of students piled out in swarms. The students cheered and whooped in glee, clearly ecstatic to be out of the prison.

But none of the students were nearly as happy as Jane, Jorge, Gaylord, and Eggbert, who were leading the mass mob of students away from the school.

"FREE AT LAST, FREE AT LAST! THANK GOD ALMIGHTY, WE ARE FREE AT LAST!" whooped Eggbert, performing a few cartwheels to express his happiness.

"I'm never coming back here!" vowed Jorge vehemently, huffing and puffing as he ran. "Never ever again! I swear!"

"Amen to that brother," gasped Gaylord from the back.

"Less talking! More running!" screeched Jane from the front, who was clearly eager to put as much space as possible between her and the school.

And so, the four idiots and the rest of the student population ran off into the sunset, back to their homes and their parents, unaware that despite their feelings, they would indeed be returning to the school the next day. After all, their parents didn't care about their happiness. They just wanted the brats out of their hair.

* * *

**  
The Next Morning…**

Damas was not in a good mood.

"What do you mean, he won't come out of his room?" he growled, his dark blue eyes narrowing dangerously. Below him, scuffing the dirt floor with his foot-paws nervously, stood Daxter. The ottsel gulped anxiously.

"I dunno!" Daxter whined. "He just said that he wasn't coming out! That he had enough of being a teacher yesterday, and that he'd rather attack a metal head nest with a stick and no armor than go back and teach."

They were, of course, talking about Jak.

Damas sighed irritably. "I don't have time for this! You tell him that if he isn't down here in exactly half an hour, that I'll take away his entire gun collection, and he won't be allowed to race for the rest of the week!"

Daxter blinked. "Can you even do that?"

"Of course I can," Damas snapped back. "I'm his father! As long as he's under this roof—" he jerked his thumb up at the rock ceiling of his throne room for emphasis—"he will abide by my rules!"

"But didn't you, like, die and stuff in the third game?" the ottsel asked curiously.

"Just because I died doesn't mean I can't run a school!" the sand king snapped back. "It's called artistic license, you little runt!"

Daxter blinked. "Okay then. I'll just… go deliver your message, then…"

And with that, the little ottsel took off.

With a big sigh, Damas threw himself onto his throne dramatically. It was so hard to be the principal of a ridiculously large school that took place in three cities sometimes. It was quite stressful. Poor Damas. He was so misunderstood.

Daxter returned a few minutes later. He didn't seem very happy.

"Well?" asked Damas expectantly.

"He started whining something about how all the students made fun of him… Called him a dirty old man, or something like that… I dunno…" the ottsel replied, shrugging.

Damas let out a frustrated growl. "That's it! I've had it up to here!" (He held is hand about a foot above his head for emphasis.) "He's gonna get a spanking!"

He yanked out his 'Punishment Belt' from behind his thrown and waved it in the air menacingly. Daxter raised his eyebrows.

"…You do realize that Jak's not exactly a little boy anymore, right?" Daxter asked conversationally.

"Again, I'm his father," Damas repeated, striding towards the elevator-thing in the middle of the room. "I'll punish him however I see fit. And it seems to me that all he needs is a good spanking to make him see things clearly!"

And with that, the Sand King left the throne room. Daxter cringed. "I'm surrounded by psychos…" he murmured to himself mournfully, shaking his furry orange head.

The Sand King made his way regally down the dusty street towards his son's house, which was only a few doors down from the elevator-lift-thing. He stomped up the stamps and pounded importantly on his son's door.

"Jak! Open the door this instant young man!" he shouted.

"Go away!" he heard Jak shout from somewhere inside. Damas growled.

"I mean it Jak! You're in big trouble little mister! You open this door right now! School is going to start in about—" he checked his watch "—an hour!"

"I don't wanna go to school today, I've got a headache!" whined the blonde.

Damas clenched his teeth together. "I'll give you five seconds to open up this door, Jak Mar! If you don't, I'll have your Jetboard taken away!"

Inside the house, Jak gave an enraged gasp. "You wouldn't!"

"Watch me!" the Sand King snapped back. "Five…"

"I'm not coming out!"

"…Four…"

"I mean it! I'm really not!"

"…Three…"

"You're not being fair!"

"…TWO…"

The door suddenly banged open, revealing a very bedraggled-looking Jak, still dressed in his pajamas. He glared up at his father menacingly.

Damas raised an eyebrow at his son. "You're not dressed."

Jak growled. "We need to talk."

And with that, the blonde dragged his father inside and slammed the door shut.

* * *

Jak spent the next five minutes complaining about his horrible day to his father. Unfortunately for him, Damas wasn't exactly sympathetic. 

"So you're telling me," the Sand King began, narrowing his eyes slightly, "that you don't want to go to school today because some snot-nosed little brats called you names?"

"And they shot me," the blonde reminded. "But yeah, that's pretty much it."

Damas sighed. "Jak, that's just silly."

"They hurt my feelings!"

"Why should they hurt your feelings? You're a wastelander, boy! The only thing that should hurt you are bullets—and even those shouldn't keep you down!"

"They called me a dirty old man…"

"Yes, I heard about that. And your point is…?"

"I'm not old!"

"To them, you are."

"YOU'RE THE OLD ONE!"

"Watch it, boy! I've got a belt!"

Jak stared at his father. "…You wouldn't really use that thing, would you? Because, y'know… that would just be wrong. Not to mention _weird._"

Damas scoffed. "I'm your father, young man. It's my job to punish you when you misbehave."

"I'M A GROWN MAN!"

"You're only twelve-years-old!"

"I'M NINETEEN-YEARS-OLD, THANK YOU VERY MUCH!"

The author has now grown tired of this conversation and all this weirdness. She is also worried that said conversation and weirdness has lowered your IQ. The author will now skip ahead to first period, where we will join the four idiots in their continuation of their… education… I'm using way too many big words today…

* * *

**  
First Period: Chemistry with Jinx (God help us all)**

**In Some Lab…**

We find the four idiots in some dingy, dirty lab in the middle of Haven City. They all looked quite miserable, sitting at rickety, dirty tables that tilted to the side if they leaned on them too much. Jorge sniffed loudly every five seconds.

"I can't believe my parents made me come back here…" he mumbled sadly, picking at a suspicious looking spot on the table he was sitting at.

"It's so unfair," Jane agreed. "And my parents didn't even care when I told 'em that everyone kept calling me a boy."

"Well, you are very manly," Gaylord said thoughtfully.

Jane growled and punched Gaylord in the nose. He fell to the ground, clutching his face. Jane stood over him and shook her fist threateningly at him, growling, "You want some more of this, punk?" She did all of this in a very manly way.

"No!" whimpered Gaylord whimpered. "Please, I'm sorry! I was just sayin'—"

Jane growled threateningly again and pulled her fist back, preparing to punch him.

"I'M SORRY!" wailed the blonde idiot. "HAVE MERCY, MISTRESS OF EVIL!"

Jane stopped mid-punched, blinking. "Mistress of Evil? That has a nice ring to it…"

Eggbert and Jorge exchanged nervous looks.

At that moment, the door burst open. The idiots turned around to look, expecting to see the teacher. But it wasn't.

Instead, it was another boy, who looked to be about the same age as them. He had bleached blonde hair (his brown roots were showing a bit) that fell just below his ears and stuck out all over the place, very tanned skin, and grey eyes. He was of average height, and kinda skinny. He looked as if he had just walked right off the cover of some surfing magazine—hell, he was even carrying a surf board under his arms.

"Whassup, dewds?" said the new boy. The kids stared at him.

"Dewd?" Eggbert repeated. "Is that like 'dude'?"

The boy nodded. "Yeah, dewd, except it's cooler. So…" He looked around, standing his surf board up against the wall. "Like, where's the teacher, man?"

"Dunno," Gaylord replied with a shrug. "The teachers here are late a lot. They take a lot of coffee breaks. I'm Gaylord, by the way," he added, holding out his hand.

"Seriously cool name, dewd," said the surfer boy, hi-fiving Gaylord instead of shaking his hand. "So, like, what are your names, dewds?" He looked at the other three idiots curiously.

"I'm Eggbert."

"Jorge."

"…" Jane stared at the new boy wide-eyed, her mouth slightly open. She appeared to be drooling a bit as well.

"Um, dewd? Hello? Like, is anyone in there man?" asked the surfer boy, waving his hand up and down in front of Jane's face.

"I'm Jane!" the girl suddenly exclaimed breathlessly, her face flushing. She gazed at the surfer boy starry-eyed, as if he were God's gift to man.

The boy grinned. "Nice to meet ya, dewds."

Jorge looked at the boy curiously. "You haven't told us your name, though."

"That's cause I can't really remember it, dewd," the boy replied, scratching the back of his head. "See, I think I got knocked out by something—my head totally hurts, man—and I can't really remember anything."

"Nothing at all?" Jane burst out. She looked like she was about to cry. This poor, beautiful, wonderful surfer boy! How horrible it must be to have lost your memories! How she yearned to pull him into her arms…

"Nah, dewd," the boy replied, shaking his head. "Not a thing. But when I came to, man, I was in some alley. I walked around for a bit… And here I am, man!"

"You can't even remember your name?" Eggbert asked curiously.

The surfer-dewd scrunched his face up. "I seem to remember… someone calling me… Hugh Jass." (Go ahead. Say it out loud.)

The kids stared at him, stunned.

"…That can't be right," Jane said finally. Whatever attraction she had felt for this mystery boy had faded a bit. "Are you SURE that's your name?"

"Nah, not really, dewd," Surfer Boy replied, flashing her a lazy grin that made her weak in the knees. "But I'm pretty sure that's my name."

The four idiots looked at each other.

"Well… Okay then," Eggbert said finally. "Nice to meet ya, Hugh."

"Likewise, bro," Surfer Boy replied cheerfully.

And so, the boy calling himself Hugh Jass (pardon me while I laugh loudly and hysterically) joined the other four in their ranks of idiocy.

And then things got a little weirder.

The door banged open once more. The kids looked around and saw that their lazy teacher had finally arrived.

This teacher was dirty. Very, very dirty. His hands and face were smudged with some sort of dirt. He had long, greasy, dirty blonde hair that was pulled back into a ponytail, and green eyes. His five o'clock shadow was quite prominent on his face. Did I mention that he was very dirty? And that he was leering at the five idiots in a way that can only be described as 'dirty'? Basically, everything about him was dirty. But you already knew that. Because this is Jinx. And that's just the way he is.

Y'know… dirty, I mean.

"Hey, there, kids. You ready to rock and rumble?" he asked the five students cheerfully.

"YOU'RE LATE!" Jane and Jorge screeched simultaneously.

"Woah, don't blow a gasket, there," the pony-tailed man replied, raising his eyebrows at the two idiots. "I got a good reason for being late. I was, ah… busy."

Jane narrowed her eyes. "Too busy to bother showing up on time to educate the empty minds of this city's future generations? It must be a pretty damn good excuse, then!"

"It is—I was busy blowing some Metal Head nests to kingdom-come while being under attack by a massive army of rabid metal heads. Luckily for me, I had Pretty Boy there to protect me." His grin turned even dirtier than before at the end of his explanation. The idiots exchanged looks.

"Pretty Boy…?" Eggbert said timidly.

"You kids probably know him as Jak Mar—the shooting instructor."

Jane growled angrily, her eyes flashing. "That asshole? Ha! I'm surprised you didn't get shot at by him! He's a horrible teacher!"

Jinx raised his eyebrow, and Jane gestured to her still-heavily bandaged butt. "He shot me in the ass yesterday during cooking class."

Instead of being sympathetic (a feeling that probably didn't exist for him, anyway), Jinx burst out laughing. "AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"It's not funny!" Jane whined, stamping her foot. "It hurt like crap, man!"

Hugh winced sympathetically. "That's totally not cool, man. Like… you won't even be able to sit down."

Jorge and Gaylord rolled their eyes. "I'm sure she'll manage," Jorge muttered. "If you wanna hear something really bad, I got shot in the face. I had to spend the better part of yesterday with my head wrapped up completely, and nobody could understand me."

"It's always about you, isn't it, Whore-hey? You never think about anyone other than yourself—in case you've forgotten, you shot _yourself _in the face! It's your own fault!"

Hugh held up his hands. "Dewds, dewds! Like, chill, okay? This is totally bad karma, man! We shouldn't be fighting. We should, like, join together and rise up against the Man!"

Everyone turned and stared the surfer-idiot.

"'The Man?'" Gaylord repeated, raising his eyebrow.

Hugh nodded furiously. "Yeah, man, you know… The _Man. _The one who makes all the important decisions and stuff. Like, you know!"

"…D'you mean the principle?" Eggbert asked.

"No, dewd! I mean—ah, never mind…" Hugh sighed, shaking his head.

Jinx shook his head. "Look, we've wasted enough time as it is. We don't have time to just sit around chattin' our asses off—let's get this class started!"

The kids straightened up obediently, albeit a bit wearily. Jinx shifted from foot to foot, looking uncomfortable.

"Umm… Yeah. Don't suppose you guys know what I should do first…?"

"You're the teacher—you're supposed to know," Jane said irritably, already deciding that this class was going to be a waste of time. Jinx scowled at her.

"Look, kid—I'm a bomb expert, not a teacher. The only reason I'm doin' this is 'cause business has been lousy and I really need the money. That, and the fact that Pretty Boy works here…" Another disturbing grin stretched itself across his face. "Well, I figured, 'why not?' Know what I'm sayin'? Though I'm startin' to think this was all a bad idea, 'specially since I hate kids… Loud, obnoxious, annoying little brats…"

"Gee, thanks for not hurting our feelings," Gaylord muttered, giving Jinx a rather resentful look.

But Eggbert, whose mama raised him to always think about the good qualities in a person, no matter how horrible, mean, and obnoxious they seemed, took pity on the pony-tailed elf. "Well, the teachers usually start off by introducing themselves and taking the roll."

Jinx shot the boy a leering grin, and Eggbert involuntarily shrank back a bit despite himself. "Thanks for the tip. Now, since that stupid attendance computer-thing didn't work, I used it to block off some wayward Metal-Pede while I was blowing up those Metal Head nests I was tellin' you about. So basically… yeah. It ain't exactly workin' anymore." As if to prove this, he fished around in his pocket and pulled out a very battered, very dingy attendance-book-thingy that had several deep scratches embedded into it. It spewed a few feeble sparks before smoke began to seep out of it.

With a sigh, Jinx tossed it off to the side. "So, screw the attendance. I'll just go right ahead and introduce myself. The name's Jinx. Not Mr. Jinx. Not Mr. Ponytail-Man. It's _Jinx. _Call me anything else, and I'll place a loaded bomb into your sandwich at lunch. Understand me?"

The kids nodded weakly.

"Good," Jinx said, obviously pleased. "Now in case you pipsqueaks didn't get the memo, or whatever, this here's Chemistry class. I'm gonna teach you everything there is to know about all the exploding chemicals that exist…"

Eggbert raised his hand.

Jinx frowned. "Yeah, what is it?"

"Um, shouldn't we be learning about _all_ the chemicals and elements? Like, all the stuff on the periodic table? And how chemicals react to one another and stuff?"

He shrank back immediately when the teacher narrowed his eyes dangerously. He shrank even more when Jinx began to speak.

"Are you the teacher here, kid?"

"N-no, sir…"

"Are you an expert on every single element, chemical, and radioactive compound that can ever be found on this planet?"

"N-no—"

"Would _you _like to teach this class? Huh, kid? It'd save me a hell of a lot of trouble."

"No sir! I'm sorry! I-I didn't mean to—"

Jinx sighed, waving his hand impatiently. "Don't worry about it, kid. Just… sit there and smile, okay? Act like ya don't know what's goin' on. You'll be a lot happier like that, believe me."

Obediently, Eggbert leaned back and plastered a vacant, goofy smile onto his face. His eyes glazed over and he started drooling a bit. Jane's eye twitched, and she scooted away from him.

"Alrighty then, let's get down to business," Jinx said cheerfully, rubbing his hands together. "First thing that we'll learn is how to make a bomb. After that, we'll move on to how to install a bomb into a zoomer so that'll explode whenever some idiot turns the ignition, and then—"

Gaylord raised his hand.

"What?" Jinx asked, his tone edgy.

"Sorry, but… what does this have to do with Chemistry?" He cowered when Jinx gave him a glare that promised death and destruction.

"Look, kid, if ya don't like what I'm gonna teach ya, then leave! Makes no difference to me—I'll still get paid."

Gaylord fidgeted nervously, looking abashed. "I didn't… I was just… I wasn't trying to… I'm sorry, I…"

"Whatever," Jinx muttered, taking a long drag from his cigar. "I see what the problem is. Your parents—and the rest of this damned society—has planted the idea that bombs are evil into your head. They've probably told you that only bad people play with bombs, and that bombs can hurt you, and that you'll go to hell if you mess with bombs. Right?"

The idiots exchanged looks. "Uhh… not really, dewd," Hugh said after a while. Jinx didn't seem to hear him, but if he did, then he merely ignored the comment.

"But that's all bullshit. Ya gotta get it through your head that bombs ain't all that bad! You've let society brainwash you long enough! I'm here to educate you about the beauty of a pipe-bomb blowing a building to bits, on the awesome power of watching a nuclear power plant exploding from a well-placed time-bomb, and that wonderful new-bomb smell." An eerie gleam was present in Jinx's eye, making him look even creepier than before. Jorge gave a violent twitch.

"Why do I get the sinking feeling that we're all going to need a lot of band-aids by the end of the day?" Gaylord asked a loud.

"Because, more than likely, we probably will," Jorge replied bitterly. "This isn't fair! I'm only twelve years old! This is too much pressure for me to take!"

"Oh, shut your noise, you," Jane muttered. "You're making my depression even worse."

Jinx began to speak again. "Now, in order for you to make a really good bomb, ya gotta make sure you have all the right ingredients. Yellow Eco is the best to use, _pure _Yellow Eco mind you, but ya gotta make sure that you pack it into the container nice 'n' tight, and make sure that there aren't any leaks in the container. 'Cause if ya don't, the bomb can go off any minute, and well… you'll die."

And somewhere in the universe, a chicken spontaneously combusted.

* * *

**  
Meanwhile…**

**Up In Some Meeting Room… Somewhere… Yeah…**

Jak knew that he was acting like a child. He was sulking in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest and his lower lip was jutted out as far as it would go. But in all honesty, he really didn't give a damn. He didn't wanna teach anymore, dammit! He was NOT a dirty old man! He was only nineteen! At the prime of his life! He hadn't even gotten any gray hairs yet!

Beside him, in the much taller, broader chair, Damas sighed and gave Jak a reproachful look. "Would you please sit up straight? You're not three anymore—the meetings about to start."

Jak grunted, resisting the urge to whine that he didn't _care _if the meeting was about to start—he was depressed, dammit, and he was gonna mope and sulk all he wanted!

Oblivious to all of this, the rest of the room continued to talk quietly amongst themselves. There weren't many others—most teachers had their class periods at that time. The ones who were present were Daxter, Tess, Torn, Samos, Onin, and Pecker. Oh, and Vice Principal Praxis. But he wasn't really seated at the table—he was actually skulking around the back of the room in the shadows, muttering darkly under his breath and shooting Jak and Damas murderous looks. This did not bother anyone—Praxis did this all the time.

"Silence!" Damas said loudly, and everyone shut up and looked at him. "Let's get this meeting over with. Now… does anyone have anything they'd like to say about their first day of teaching?"

"The kids called me a dirty old man! And one kid shot me in the ass!" Jak whined.

Damas shot him a look. "You didn't raise your hand, Jak."

Jak pouted once more. Torn, who found Jak's pouting to be _very _sexy indeed, shot him a leering look. Jak gulped and shrank back in his chair, suddenly worried about his chastity.

"Would anyone else care to comment?" Damas asked, turning back to everyone else.

"Can I resign now?" Torn asked, raising his hand. "I've realized that teaching isn't my thing. I'd much rather lead an army in a raid against a Metal Head nest weaponless."

"No, you may not," Damas replied coldly. "If you had read the contract carefully, you'd have realized that everything was final. There's no backing out!"

Torn slumped in his chair sadly.

Samos raised his hand and spoke, "I think we need to enlist more corporal punishment into the classrooms! All my students so far have been rude, crude, and have been abusive to the innocent plants in my teaching environment! Why, just the other day as I arrived, I found two students mercilessly tearing grass out from the ground and flinging the innocent blades at each other! When I demanded to know what they were doing, they stated that they were playing! _Playing! _I've never heard of such a thing! Before you know it, children will be shooting each other dead in the streets and call it all 'playing!' We must prevent this madness—"

"Onin says that you are overreacting," Pecker said suddenly, sneering at the sage. "Honestly, are you even listening to yourself? It's just grass! It's not like it can feel anything! You are muy loco if you think that—"

"Can it, bird brain!" Samos snapped back. "You didn't even raise your hand!"

Pecker rolled his eyes. "Oh, bird brain, that's very impressive! You _stun me, _old one, with your pathetic retorts!"

"Why you little—"

"_Silence!"_ Damas shouted, smacking his hands on the table. "I shall have no more of this foolishness! We are supposed to be planning ways to better our school environment!"

"These sorts of things wouldn't be happening if _I _were principle," Baron Praxis spoke up bitterly from the back of the room.

"If you were principle, you'd be pumping everyone with Dark Eco!" Jak snapped, giving the vice principle a look of deep loathing.

"Yeah, or you'd use all the school's income to buy your stupid Gundam models," Daxter chimed in with a sneer.

Praxis bristled. "You leave my Gundam models out of this, you mangy rodent!"

"ANYWAYS," Damas said loudly, rubbing his temples—a fierce migraine had erupted inside his head. "We have more important matters to discuss. It has recently been brought to my attention that there is one class that we've forgotten to assign a teacher for."

Everyone straightened up noticeably, eying Damas wearily. They did not trust that gleam in his eye at all.

"Sex Ed.," Damas finally announced, cringing a bit. Gasps of horror quickly filled the room. "Yes, yes, it's horrible," Damas sighed, waving his hand impatiently, "but my hands are tied, and there's no one else left to hire. That leaves me with one option—one of our current teachers will have to teach it. So," he leaned forward, a wicked grin on his face, "whose it gonna be?"

"Not me," Jak said immediately. "All those idiot kids already think I'm a dirty old man as it is. I do NOT want to give 'em anymore ideas."

Damas snorted. "I wouldn't let you teach that class anyway—you and I have yet to have the talk yet as it is."

Jak's eye twitched.

Damas turned back to the rest of the room. "Anyone else?"

Everyone suddenly seemed to find the walls and table surface interesting, coughing and muttering under their breath. Sex Ed. just was not something that appealed to them.

The Sand King raised one eyebrow. "Not even _you _Daxter?"

"Look, your royal kingliness, I may be able to tell some dirty tales with the best of 'em, but there is no way in hell that I'm gonna give 'The Talk' to a bunch of prepubescent punks, just because their parents are too scared to! No way, nuh-uh! Forget it!" the ottsel replied, shaking his head furiously.

Damas sighed. "Such a pity. I wonder, then, who might be interested in teaching that class…?"

Unbeknownst to everyone else, Baron Praxis was suddenly struck with a wonderful idea. And it was all he could do not to burst into crazed, psychotic bouts of laughter as a plan began to take form in that greedy little brain of his.

* * *

**  
Second Period: Cosmetology with Razer**** (you wanted it, now you've got it!)**

**Somewhere in Kras City…**

When Shrimpy and Small Fry found themselves in the Cosmetology classroom, they were understandably confused. As far as they knew, Cosmetology was a girl class, and they were both boys. They also had no knowledge of ever signing up for said class, and yet their schedules clearly stated, in bold yet stylish print, **"COSMETOLOGY WITH HIS ESTEEMED SEXINESS, LEHRER RAZER."**

The only other students present in the room were Gaylord, and some surfer kid who said his name was Hugh Jass. Neither midget cared to comment about the boy's name.

So the four students sat there in their salon chairs, unsure of what to do, nor what to say. It was very awkward, as I'm sure you can imagine, being surrounded by all the hairdryers, hairsprays, nail polishes and other feminine products, and very much aware that most of the décor was a very violent shade of red, with black trimming. Stylish and sexy, yet… more than a little intimidating. And as they sat there, sinking into the black leather cushions of their salon chairs, they felt as though the room was slowly sucking away what little masculinity they had.

"Would it kill this guy to be on time?" Gaylord finally muttered, the silence becoming unbearable. "I mean really. Do all these teachers have some sort of disease that makes it impossible for them to be on time? Or is it some kind of sick conspiracy to drive us kids crazy? Or what?"

Shrimpy sighed. "Maybe we'll get lucky, and no teacher will show up," he said hopefully. "I'm pretty terrified about how this one will turn out, since all the others have been complete psychos."

Gaylord straightened up suddenly, narrowing his eyes as he gazed at the midget. "You shot me," he said suddenly, remembering his traumatic cooking class.

Shrimpy blinked. "Beg pardon?"

"You shot me!" Gaylord repeated, his voice growing louder as his anger grew. "Yesterday during third period, remember? You had shooting class with Mr. Jak, and we were all cooking at the gun course… and you SHOT me!"

"We didn't have any choice!" sputtered Small Fry in his friend's defense. "The teacher told us to do it!"

Shrimpy nodded in agreement. "And anyways, how do you know that I was the one that shot you? It could have been anybody—there were at least seven of us in that class!"

"I remember because I saw you point your gun at me! You jerk! _DIE!_" And with that, he lunged at Shrimpy, shrieking like a banshee, clawing and scratching at any part of the midget his hands came in contact with.

The other two idiots, upon seeing this, immediately rushed over and began to try to pull them apart.

"Dewds, dewds, dewds! There's, like, no reason to fight, man! Peace and love, dewds, peace and love!" Hugh wailed, trying desperately to pull Gaylord off the midget.

"_DEATH KILL MAIM DESTROY FUN-BLOOD-GUSHING-NOISES!"_ cackled Gaylord, deaf to his friend's pleas.

Shrimpy was beside himself, trying fruitlessly to hid himself behind Small Fry. "Get him off of me! This guy's nuts! He's trying to kill me!"

"Stop trying to hide behind me, you jerk!" screeched Small Fry to his fellow midget friend, upon being dealt a very painful and undeserved blow to the head by Gaylord.

This squabble would've continued on like this for quite some time, if not for the entrance of one certain individual.

"My, my… and what do we have here?"

The four idiots stopped their squabbling and looked around.

There, standing in the doorway, in all his haughty, stylish, German sexiness, stood Razer himself, a cigarette dangling from his fingertips and a sneer that dripped superiority on his face.

"And what, may I ask, is all this ruckus?" Razer asked, a dangerous edge in his voice. He gave a deep puff on his cancer stick before walking slowly over to where the four idiots stood. There was a dangerous sway to his walk that Gaylord took not of almost instantly—and he did not like it one bit.

"He started it!" Shrimpy shrieked, pointing one stumpy finger at Gaylord from behind Small Fry. "I wasn't doing anything! I didn't even provoke him, and he attacked me! I could've died!"

"You shot me, you little prick!" Gaylord shouted, still struggling furiously against Hugh's hold. "I think that gives me a damn good reason to attack you—dammit, Hugh, lemme go! The midget must die!"

"There's, like, no need for violence, dewds! That's how wars are started and stuff! We should totally just sit around a campfire and sort out our feelings in a nice, peaceful way instead! Like totally, dewds!"

"Stop trying to use me as your friggin' human shield, man!" Small Fry yelled at his fellow midget, having narrowly avoided being cuffed in the jaw by Gaylord.

Razer was watching all of this in amused disbelief. But he quickly grew impatient with it all, as was in his nature, and with a last puff on his cig, he whipped out his blade and said in his most intimidating voice, "If all this foolishness does not cease in the next minute, I shall have your testicles for hood ornaments."

All movement ceased immediately. The four idiots looked up at Razer in horror, afraid for their manhoods.

Satisfied, Razer stored away his blade and ordered that the four idiots take their seats. They did so, slumping back down into their salon chairs without complaint, and at such a fast speed that Razer couldn't help but give himself a mental pat on the back—though he was no longer part of one of the most feared crime families around, his powers of intimidation (and sexiness) had never left him.

He took another long drag from his cancer stick, and surveyed his students with barely-concealed disgust. He gave a soft, delicate sigh, and shook his head. Though this was the toughest case he'd ever seen, he was determined to succeed!

"My name," he finally said, his voice still carrying that dangerous edge, "is _Lehrer_ Razer. I shall be teaching you the art of style and elegance…"

Gaylord raised his hand. Razer gave him a look that one gives to a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of their shoe. _"Was?" _

The boy cowered. "U-um… what does 'lehrer' mean?"

"It's German for teacher," Razer replied coldly.

"Oh… you're German?"

Razer rolled his eyes. "No. I'm _French. _Of course I'm German, you simpleton!"

Gaylord cowered some more.

"Now then," Razer sighed, as he began pacing down the room, "due to certain… er, unfortunate events, I am unable to take the roll for this class…"

"Five bucks says he destroyed his attendance-thingy like everyone else," Small Fry muttered to Shrimpy.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, sir!"

Razer peered down his nose at the midget. "Since I cannot take the roll, I shall not waste any time or energy in trying to learn your names. Nor will I be making any attempts to get to know you, as I'm sure your other teachers have done… You see, I have a feeling that if I were to ask you your ages, you would not be able to count that high."

The kids were understandably insulted, but were wise enough not to say anything.

"Now, I want all of you to stand up so that I may fully survey what I must work with this year—now! _Schnell!_" he ordered.

The kids immediately hopped to their feet and stood before him, looking more like cadets before a drill sergeant than a bunch of Cosmetology students.

Razer walked slowly from student to student, his nose wrinkling daintily.

"Your hair wants cutting," he said to Shrimpy, eyeing the mop of curly blonde hair with disgust.

Shrimpy flinched, but made no reply.

Razer turned his sights onto Small Fry. "You're obviously a modest little person with much to be modest about."

Small Fry blinked up at him, the insult not quite registering in his brain.

Gaylord quickly said, "That's not very nice! Why are you being so mean? We have feelings too, y'know! And—"

Bright green eyes turned and narrowed at the boy, who shrank back. "Are you always this stupid, or are you making a special effort today?"

The boy mumbled something unintelligible in reply.

"Like, Gaylord totally has a point, dewd," Hugh, who was loyal and always took up for his friends, piped up. "It's, like, bad karma to insult people. We should all just get _along, _y'know? And, like, give compliments instead of insults, man!"

Razer sneered at the idiot, and pointed at him. "I have good advice for you, boy—fire your wardrobe consultant. The beachey, air-head surfer-dude look is _so _last decade. Also, whoever told you to be yourself couldn't have given you worse advice."

Hugh slumped over sadly, looking dejected.

The racer took another long drag from his cig before speaking again. "Now, despite these obvious setbacks, with a little work and determination—not too mention a good amount of hairspray—I think I can turn you from the sniveling, repulsive, fashion-impaired slobs that you are now, into well-manicured, stylish, and well-dressed specimens like myself. Of course, you will never be able to measure up to _me, _but then again, no one can. It's sad, yes, but very true." He flicked his cigarette delicately, sending the ash flying.

The four idiots could only look at each other in disbelief.

* * *

**  
OMG SEXY RAZER. OMG THE HAWTNESS:D**** I put everything I had into the Cosmetology scene, because that's the one that everyone's been demanding. I hope that it lived up to your expectations!**

**And now, finally, it is done. It is currently 3:45 AM. I started finishing this chapter at 8:35 last night. I am TIRED. I'll post this as soon as I wake up, because I am going to go get some shut-eye now. **


End file.
